


places we met

by softlyforgotten



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, The Academy Is - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-22
Updated: 2009-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/softlyforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	places we met

**1.** It’s a summer night, and the air is warm and cool. William and Mike are lying in Mike’s backyard with a carton of beer and some leftover pizza when William gets fidgety.

(Mike is used to this. William is kind of predictable when he’s getting drunk. Mike knows all the stages of this, knows how to judge, knows what to say in which moments, knows the exact moment to ask William for something Mike wants. This is not so much a matter of Mike having known William for a stupidly long time as it is the fact that William is easy to get to know.

Not that that’s got anything to do with _understanding_ him. Some days Mike doesn’t think he’s any closer to figuring _that_ out, even though he’s known William for a million years, or so it feels like. Nevertheless, the fact remains: a drunk William is a predictable one. Mike does not have much trouble coaxing William into coming for a walk with him.)

They go down to the park two blocks away that they used to play soccer at when they were twelve, and both of them were terrible at it, but William got such a silly, triumphant face when he skidded forward and grazed his knees, and Mike thought the feeling of connecting his foot with the ball solidly, every once and a while, was worth all the skims and _almost there_ s. The grass is mostly green, but coming loose from the caked dirt a little bit, and there’s a certain yellow tinge in the growing dusk. William scuffs his sneaker along it and little pieces cling to the toe.

William says, “ _I’m_ gonna climb that tree,” and sets out to do so. Mike swigs from his bottle and watches amiably as William saunters over. William’s already reached one arm out and is about to pull himself up when he suddenly shrieks and jerks backward. Mike walks forward, interested.

There is already a guy in the tree. He is tall, with a slowly-growing smile that is not _quite_ polite, and dark eyes. “Hello,” he says.

A drunk William is a predictable William. Mike is not even a little bit surprised when William’s eyes grow wide, when he tilts his head a little and breathes, “ _Hi_.”

 **2.** The blur of the lights above is starting to make William dizzy, so he keeps his head tilted downwards, not quite looking at people’s faces, sometimes his gaze slipping straight to the floor. It’s kind of hard to dance properly, here; different from a mosh but still packed, William’s hips bumping up against two skinny girls with ratty blonde hair and brown roots, another guy with a lip piercing and a tattoo spreading out from under his sleeve. It’s his first time in France, and he’s lost the rest of his band (probably to the bar), but he likes this in some strange, uncertain way (the way where he’ll wonder, later, if he actually _did_ like it, or if he just felt like he was _supposed_ to like it).

He’s just starting to think maybe he needs a drink when he shimmies forward and some guy slams up against his front, so that William’s gaze finally jerks up. It’s hard to see the guy’s face properly because the lights change so fast, and William is left with annoying, not quite real glances. Flash – mouth curving into a smile – flash – skin that looks almost honey under the lights – flash – surprised, interested eyes – flash – flash – flash.

William has stopped dancing, to his surprise, and a wave of the crowd without him moving with them almost knocks him over; instinctively, he reaches out and snatches for the guy’s wrist. This time, he definitely sees the guy’s mouth twitch, sees him surge forward unexpectedly and murmur in William’s ear, “Dance?” William’s grinning, suddenly, and the guy is smiling back, and his hand is curving around William’s hip and William doesn’t let go of his wrist.

 **3.** William wakes up and realises that while he’s asleep someone has blinded him. He goes to shriek out and try to summon some help but ends up with a, “Nyrgh,” sound and the sudden understanding that actually his eyes are just _closed_. He doesn’t smile, because his head feels like it’s going to explode and his eyes are still closed and he can’t promise that said smile would not be a hideous leering attempt that fails to do anything except frighten small children, but he’s smiling on the _inside_ , which is what counts. Or that’s what Sisky says when William demands more celebration at the fact that they’ve just eaten a whole pizza/won the Halo tournament/drawn a mustache on a sleeping Mike/convinced Butcher to shave his head.

William opens his eyes.

The hotel room is kind of golden in the morning light, seeping through across the standard issue cream painted walls and the plain carpet, which would probably be nice normally, and Tom might have taken a picture of it, but William has the Hangover From Hell. He moans pitifully and rolls over to bury his face in what he was hoping to find was a large, hangover-curing pillow and is instead a naked man.

This morning, William decides, is definitely not going to go in his Top Five Best Days Ever. Which is a pity; William likes to think he’s an optimistic kind of guy.

From what he can see, last night’s pick-up is… tall. With dark brown hair. And nice, tanned skin. Unfortunately, that is about all William can see of the dude, as he’s sleeping with his back to William.

(Except: William shifts a little and the sheet moves with him and William has to stifle a frighteningly fourteen-year-old girlish giggle. Nice ass, too.)

Gingerly, as though about to wake a sleeping dragon (Sisky made him read Harry Potter, okay, he totally knows his shit), William reaches out and pokes the guy in the shoulder. Twice. Hard. And then, when the guy only grunts a little bit, he punches him in the arm.

That makes the guy sit up and glare at William. “Dude,” he says. “What the fuck?”

“Hi,” William says, brightly. “Good morning. Did you sleep well? I did. Anyway, I’ll call you!” He makes a lunge to get out of bed, and then gets a little bit dizzy and a lot queasy. Okay, he thinks, no sudden moves. Fine, I can totally still deal with this.

Strange Naked Dude is blinking sleepily at William and goddamnit, he’s kind of very hot. William congratulates his drunk self from last night. And then Strange Naked Dude smiles, suddenly, and William swallows hard.

“You have _no idea_ who I am, right?” he asks.

William would normally be charming and very good at escaping without admitting anything, but, as it is, he’s a little bit captivated by The Smile. “Uh,” he says, “No, not as such.”

The guy blinks at him. “Not as such?”

“No. I mean. No. Sorry?”

The guy laughs, and William’s eyes, if possible, get wider. It’s like. Honey, he thinks somewhat dreamily. This guy is totally like honey. William will take him away, and keep him all to himself, and they will be happy together and this guy can have William’s babies. Life will be beautiful.

“Sure thing, dude,” the guy says. William’s mouth snaps shut. He has a horrifying feeling he just said what he was thinking aloud, a dreadful and evil thought which is miserably confirmed by the guy continuing to talk. “You can even keep me in your basement or something, I’m an open-minded kind of guy. Although I wouldn’t say that shit to everyone, I got so dumped by my last girlfriend for something along those lines.”

“Um,” William says, a little helplessly. He has a hangover and the hottest guy in the world sitting naked next to him. He is allowed to feel a little out of his depth here; he’s pretty sure it’s only good luck that’s stopped him from flailing a little bit.

The guy leans forward and curves his hand around the back of William’s head, tugs him closer by his hair and kisses him quick and dirty, tongue darting around his mouth. William bites back a moan and leans closer, hands running along the guy’s skin, uncertain of where to hold (but okay, maybe Top Fifteen Days). The guy breaks away and smiles a little at William’s unhappy noise, and says, “I’m Gabe.”

William is fairly sure he’ll remember, this time.

 **4.** “Jonny Walker will do it,” Tom announces, gleefully. “Jon dances like an angel. Like a princess. Like a ballerina.”

“I would not be so sure,” William says darkly, “Once, I too was assured of my dancing abilities. Once, I thought that dancing made me like – like – like a _sun_ in the centre of the room, and people could barely look or else be blinded by my radiance! Until _your girlfriend_ , Carden,” and here his voice takes on a distinctly injured tone, “ruined my youth and my innocence, and cast me into the depths of despair.”

“William,” Mike says patiently, “You have two left feet. We all know this. It was just a matter of someone finally telling you.”

“I have been _betrayed_ ,” William says, “By my closest comrades, who look like flowers—”

“Dude,” Jon says, sounding offended, “I resent that. I am totally manly. Spencer Smith told me so.”

“Spencer Smith wears pink t-shirts with unicorns, and he has a crush on you,” William tells him. “He is not fit to be a judge of anyone’s manliness. And you, Jon Walker, are the _smallest person in the world_. Except for that Stump kid in music class. But that is not the point! You have serpents underneath you, you have—”

“Literally?” Sisky says, keeping an almost painfully straight face. “That would be kind of dangerous, Bill.”

“Stop it!” William wails. “We’re getting off topic! The point is, Jon, I have kindly led you to this quiet, arty and secluded place—”

“You have accosted me,” Jon counters, “In the middle of Starbucks—”

“A practically _empty_ Starbucks,” William says, dismissively. “And it has a nice, patterned carpet. But Tom said you’ll dance with me, and so you must. You must, because no one will ever comment that I’m a bad dancer, ever, ever again.”

Jon says, “Never and no and _fuck off_ ,” but he’s standing up and handing his hoodie to Tom so William knows he’s won. The music in Starbucks isn’t great, but it will do. William puts his hand on Jon’s waist and the other in his hand and tugs him close, and Jon mumbles something about freakishly long limbs all around him, and possibly something about tentacle rape, but William is a kind and magnanimous friend and he pretends he didn’t hear so as to avoid having to cut Jon down, ruthlessly.

Jon isn’t a very enthusiastic dance partner, but he kind of corrects William’s stance a few times and says once, “Follow the _beat_ , Bill, not whatever you’re humming,” and William supposes that this can help him in the long run. He leads Jon as best he can around the small space between the armchairs while Mike and Sisky laugh so hard they’re crying and Tom and the Butcher pretend they aren’t groping each other under the table. Jon even gets into it after a little while, humming along and resting his head on William’s shoulder, which sends Sisky and Mike into fresh hysterics. William doesn’t care. William is _focused_. William will be a brilliant dancer if it is the last thing he does.

Only then, Spencer Smith comes in with his stupid tilty hips and his artfully arranged hair and his pink t-shirts and ruins everything. Jon gets his Stupid Spencer Face which is mostly just the biggest smile anyone has ever seen and sparkly eyes and _abandons_ Bill to go over and say hi and flirt ineptly for a while.

William stands in the same exact position and stares mournfully after him, even after Spencer starts giving him slightly confused looks.

“Jilted,” Sisky comments sadly.

“Like a—” the Butcher struggles for a moment to come up with a suitable comparison and then settles, triumphantly, on “Knight!”

William forgets his tragic sorrow for a moment so he can turn around and say, in unison with Sisky and Tom, “What?”

“Knights jilt!” the Butcher protests. “With lances and stuff! I read about it at school!”

“ _Jousting_ , Mrotek,” Mike says, sadly. “The word you are looking for is _jousting_.”

“What? No, I’m sure it’s jilt!” There are a few insults exchanged about Andrew’s _mom_ jilting people, but not Mike, because she is totally hot for him, and the whole incident descends very quickly into a scuffle, Sisky and Tom picking appropriate sides.

William takes a deep breath, raises his head to the ceiling and wails, “I’m _never_ gonna learn how to dance!”

“I can dance,” someone says from behind him.

William whirls around, and the pile of boys on the armchair next to him go suspiciously still; Mike pauses with his teeth about to sink into Tom’s hand – Sisky struggles out of the Butcher’s headlock.

The new guy who can, apparently, dance is smiling at William. William is staring at him with his mouth open. “Really?” he says finally, a little weakly.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re not actually that bad. Here, you wanna be more like this,” and New Guy With No Concept of Personal Space or Manners steps forward and grabs William’s hand and his hip, reels him in and guides him easily around the carpet in a small circle. He sways gently to the music and looks perfectly at ease, and quite natural in the middle of fucking Starbucks. William is not quite sure whether to be irrationally and bitchily jealous or infatuated.

The guy steps back. “See?” he says, and does this ridiculous, huge grin.

Infatuated, then. “Yeah,” William says, a little stupidly. Then he smiles slyly and steps forward a little, so they’re maybe a _bit_ too close for new acquaintances. “I’ll probably need more lessons, though.”

The guy laughs, short and surprised. “I bet,” he says. “You know what’s a really good place to dance? The movies.”

“Oh, yeah?” William breathes.

“Yeah. They’ve got that red carpet, you know, and you can waltz down it in the credits.”

“Are you free tonight?” William blurts out.

The stranger bites his lip in what appears to be an attempt to hold in a stupid smile (it fails). “As it happens, I am.”

Across the room, Jon looks around and spots them. “Oh, hey,” he says. “Gabe finally worked up the nerve to talk to William.”

“Gabe needs to work up the nerve to do anything?” Spencer wonders.

Jon shrugs. “He said something about cheekbones and slinkiness,” he explains, and goes back to his own inept flirting.

 **5.** There are a thousand worlds, a thousand songs.

There is them.

There is Gabe’s slow grin, and William leaning into him. The sun waits for them to leave before it sets.


End file.
